


U.S.S. Temeraire

by evening_spirit



Category: Criminal Minds, Star Trek
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Bajoran, Betazoid, Changelings, Gen, Science Fiction, Spaceships, Starfleet, Trills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-14
Updated: 2011-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:10:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evening_spirit/pseuds/evening_spirit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OMG! CM team becomes a crew of a Star Trek ship! Who will be the Pilot, who will rule Engineering, who is the Klingon? Read and find out. Whole team, but Reid is in close combat with Morgan for the role of a Main Character. No pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	U.S.S. Temeraire

**A/N:** Chapters 1 to 8 were betaed by Bigj52. The remaining chapters are unbetaed -- all mistakes are mine.

 **Disclaimer:** Do not own, no profit gained.

 **  
**

***

 **U.S.S. _Temeraire_**

  
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**1 - Captain Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner**

***

Aaron Hotchner had proudly served onboard U.S.S. _Quantico_ as the First Officer for seven years. _Quantico_ however, was now in debris somewhere between Cardasia Prime and Bajor. Only thirty six members of her two hundred and fifty crew fled in escape pods, most of them severely injured and now remained in hospitals on Bajor and Earth. Six days after her annihilation the survivors were given a ray of hope in their overwhelming grief - their Captain, Jason Gideon, along with five other members managed to get away at the last moment.

Captain Gideon was promoted to Rear Admiral and less than a month after the destruction of the _Quantico_ , given the command of the armada of ships headed to Gamma Quadrant. Their mission was to run reconnaissance of the terrain, map the enemy outposts and avoid battles which were unavoidable. His Flagship was a huge Galaxy Class explorer named _Bahadur_ * and Admiral Gideon demanded that most of his former crew were stationed with him on his ship or on the five Defiant Class scouts.

Aaron Hotchner, promoted to Captain, was given his own - U.S.S. _Temeraire_.

***

* Bahadur is a Persian name, meaning "Bold, Brave".

***

  
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**2 - Commander Derek Morgan**

***

It was the duty of the First Officer to report to his assigned ship first before the Captain, to prepare her for his arrival.

At least, that was Derek Morgan's sentiment and he followed it to the letter as he was shuttled onboard _Temeraire_ this Saturday morning. The crew was supposed to board on Sunday but the bridge officers were expected this afternoon and Commander Morgan intended to welcome each of them on the deck.

Meanwhile, he was welcomed by a slim, dark-haired Vulcan woman whose face bore neither curiosity, nor eagerness. She was as blank as any other Vulcan face and Derek had to hold himself back from trying to probe her mind. Vulcans made him feel uneasy, no matter how much he tried to deny it, but he needed to be at peak efficiency today and opening up to the emotions and thoughts of others was always disturbing and often draining.

"Sir!" The Vulcan woman saluted. "Welcome onboard _Temeraire_ , sir!"

"At ease, Lieutenant." Morgan marched toward her, extending his palm, hoping that he appeared open and accepting. "Commander Derek Morgan, First Officer."

"Lieutenant T'Elle, Dockyard Crew." The Vulcan's handshake was firm and steady. Reliable. "Would you like me to show you to your quarters first, or do you wish to see the ship?" Efficient.

Morgan indicated the bags hung over his arm. "I'd like to leave my baggage in my quarters and then see the bridge."

"Follow me, then."

The Vulcan turned away and purposefully walked to the turbolift.

" _Temeraire_ ," Morgan started in a chatty manner as they entered and the wagon swooshed up. "Is that the name of some dragon in the Human mythology?" The reason Vulcans made him feel uncomfortable - at least, that's how he justified his unease to himself - was their entirely mask-like faces. Of course, he avoided reading minds of all sentient species but at least their facial expressions satisfied his need to empathize by providing some information about their emotional state. This was not the case with the most controlled race in the Universe. Morgan hoped that T'Elle would relax if talking about some irrelevant matter, although this hope was most likely futile.

Indeed, T'Elle all but confirmed. "It is true. It's a relatively unknown myth from the European Middle Ages era*, I believe." She paused, long enough for them to leave the turbolift and walk into the corridor. Before they moved ahead she looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow, the first sign of surprise on her face nearly making Derek jump for joy. _Human_ mythology?" she asked. "You phrased it as if you weren't Human?"

"I am not," Morgan shrugged. It no longer puzzled him that he was not immediately recognized for his race. People of his species had distinctly darker eyes than Humans but with his dark complexion a lot of people in the Starfleet assumed wrongly. "I am a Betazoid."

"Oh," the Vulcan's brow quirked even higher and her eyes widened for a split second. Morgan contained the itch to chuckle at this _wild_ display of emotions. "These are your quarters." T'Elle changed the subject and took three steps to the right, reining her feelings back into submission.

Morgan didn't think she feared Betazoid telepathic abilities. He was certain that all Starfleet members knew the privacy of their minds would never be violated by a Betazoid but still, he wanted to reassure her about it, perhaps even explain why. Why _he_ wouldn't read her thoughts. This made no sense though, not with her. Familiarizing himself with the dockyard crew was pointless; she would be out of _Temeraire_ before he knew it and they'd most likely never see each other again.

Instead, he asked, placing his bags on the lower bunk and turning to leave, "I guess I'm the first of my crew to arrive?" He was certain the answer would be 'yes'.

To his surprise it wasn't.

"Well," he could swear that the Vulcan stammered. "Actually, the Chief Engineer came onboard yesterday."

"Chief Engineer?'' the Commander ran the crew manifesto through his head and a name popped up in his head. Penelope Garcia. "Where is she?"

"In the Holosuite." The Vulcan seemed almost embarrassed. Derek allowed himself a small opening of his defenses and sensed the Vulcan's faint, well-controlled anger. He withdrew quickly, curious as to what she could be angry about. T'Elle didn't give him a chance to ask. "Shall we go see the bridge now, sir?"

They didn't need to go far - the bridge door was almost directly opposite his quarters.

The Defiant-class ship was small and its bridge was equally crude. However, it wasn't unsophisticated by any means. The most efficient bridge in all Starfleet contained all the vital stations and they were equipped with the most advanced systems. Engineering and Tactical One were on the port side and Science, coupled with Tactical Two on the starboard. The Conn, merged with Ops, was centered and in front of the viewscreen and the lone Command chair was behind it on a raised platform.

Unlike on larger ships the Captain's Ready Room was not connected with it - actually, there was no distinct Captain's Ready Room. It was simply an area in the Captain's quarters and it was located on the other side of the ship, mirroring the First Officer's quarters. Instead of the Briefing Room they had a table in the alcove at the back of the bridge and for larger briefings they were supposed to use the mess hall on the lower deck.

Derek knew his station would be Tactical One and he would take the Command chair in the absence of the Captain.

The situation onboard _Temeraire_ was quite unusual, to be honest. It was uncommon that a ship this small would be commanded by a full Captain. It would be more appropriate if a Commander like Derek Morgan was in charge of it. But given the difficulty of the mission and the possibility that it might go to hell in a hand-basket at any moment, it was better to have as many experienced officers as possible in the crews of all ships.

Morgan asked Lieutenant T'Elle to display all stations and run a quick manual. There were no glitches, not that there could have been. The ship was brand new and it was coming off dock after three rounds of thorough check-ups. It was more of a formality from the Commander, the need to familiarize himself with the displays and the systems.

He was about to ask the lean Lieutenant to take him to the Holosuite to meet the Chief Engineer who was in such a rush to appear onboard before everyone else, when the Vulcan's comm-badge chirped.

"We received a message that a shuttle just left the station ring and is coming our way."

"Who's onboard?" Morgan asked.

"The Doctor and the Conn Officer."

***

*Actually "Temeraire" is a name of many ships in French navy, beginning from XVIIth century. There are some British ships of this name as well. "Temeraire" in French means "Impudent, Insolent". The dragon mentioned here is from a series of novels by Naomi Novik - they are set in the Napoleonic era. People in XXIVth century could easily mistake a novel from our times for a myth from the Middle Ages, right?

***

  
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**3 - Ensign Spencer Reid (Reid)**

***

 **A/N:** Because someone asked me what is Trill, as not to confuse more of you, here's a **Trill 101:** Jadzia Dax, one of the main characters from _Deep Space Nine_ was a Trill. They are humanoids, but there are those little worm-like creatures living on their planet as well - they are intelligent and they may live in symbiosis with the humanoid Trills. As they live longer than humanoids, they may have multiple hosts and they retain memories of all the previous hosts. I think the Dax symbiont was about 400 years old and had six or seven lives, of course Reid is better than that, lol. It's a great privilige on Trill, to become a host.

I hope the story below will be a bit more clear if you know that. If you had any questions, feel free to ask. :)

***

Spencer was curious. He had been born curious. He was also unusually bright, even for a Trill. Bright, curious and so driven to adventure it was bordering on stupidity. He had signed up for the Joining Program at the age of seven, feigning that he'd been fifteen on the forms.

Luck had it that Reid's previous host - Deanna, his fourteenth host - had been old at the time and she knew she would have to find a new humanoid Trill to join with fairly soon. When she'd thought about her past - her symbiont's past - she knew that she'd been old, she had died young, she'd been a man and a woman; she'd been a mother and a grandmother, a father and a grandfather; she'd lived on Trill and in space and she had experienced almost everything a symbiont may experience. She had lived longer than a symbiont Trill could expect to live. She hadn't experienced youth, though. No symbiont had ever experienced Trill adolescence, simply because young humanoid Trills were too fragile and their personality could easily be overwhelmed by that of a symbiont. When she saw Spencer's application, Reid claimed she was experienced enough and she wouldn't harm this young man. Thus, a false fifteen-year-old Spencer was not denied on the spot.

Things had become more difficult when the falsification was revealed, as a little boy instead of a teenager stood before the Symbiosis Commission. Reid had felt she wanted _this host_ even more now than before. She could experience childhood! However, the other members of the Commission would not agree with her.

It had been a fight. She had fought for Spencer for three years, giving up and renewing her hopes many times over. All the while she had become his friend, had been teaching him and realizing how strong he really was. He could do it! He could handle a symbiont and this symbiont would be gentle. There were times she'd thought she had lost when Deanna's body started failing, first her heart, then her kidneys. She wouldn't give up and the Commission eventually succumbed. The benefits of the symbiont and its need to _experience_ had always been a prerogative of the Trill society.

She had waited patiently and finally Spencer and Reid were joined.

The joining hadn't gone as smoothly as Reid had hoped. Poor Spencer, ten years old, by far the youngest ever joined Trill - had nearly dissipated under the overwhelming personalities of the previous fourteen hosts and eventually it was Deanna's personality which saved him. The idea had been hers for Reid to remain separate from Spencer. He had been inside Spencer's mind and had seen everything through his eyes, heard through his ears and felt through his skin. The symbiont could share the boy's contact with the world but they would not become one, not until Spencer was ready.

Now, nearly thirteen years later they still hadn't fully joined. There were moments though, more and more often when Spencer and Reid acted as one and Reid was hoping that soon enough he would show Spencer all the wonders of being a joined Trill. For now, he waited.

And he had lots of fun watching the gaping mouth of Trills or people of other races when he spoke about himself in third person, or when he switched between Spencer and Reid in the middle of the conversation, or, best of all, when he was getting so carried away that he had discussions between Spencer and Reid going on aloud.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," he told the older bearded Human sitting in the other chair on a shuttle taking them to the _Temeraire_ , their home for the next couple of months. "Spencer is still a little afraid of the outer space-" 'Am not!' - thought Spencer but Reid ignored him, "-and I needed to reassure him that all would be well. After all, I have survived nearly a thousand years, many of them on spaceships. I'm intending to survive the next thousand but I most definitely want to spend the next hundred in _this_ body." Other than Spencer's brilliant mind, Reid also loved the tall frame, big eyes and even bigger smile. "It's a cute body, don't you think, Doc? Spencer hates it when I call him cute." Reid chuckled and shut up. Spencer didn't say anything anymore, not even in their mind, simply because he took offense at being mocked and, right now, Reid felt a little ashamed of himself.

***

  
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**4 - Lieutenant Commander Doctor David Rossi**

***

The vessel entered the shuttle bay, which was the smallest Doctor Rossi had ever seen. Well, it was a Defiant-class ship, not an Excelsior he was used to.

He had all reasons to feel bitter. Being assigned here felt like a degradation; a doctor in the rank of Lieutenant Commander would serve on a ship containing no more than fifty people. Not that he would have nothing to do, quite the contrary! At his age he was being sent to the line of fire, to the heart of enemy territory! He had thought that by being his best he would have earned a safe position one day, maybe on a hospital ship, maybe some research vessel. But no! The Headquarters saw it fit to give him a place where he would most likely get killed within a week. He wondered who up there hated him that much and why.

The first crew member he'd met was a young Trill, or so he thought. How wrong he was! One should never judge the age of a Trill by their current body - this one had hundreds of years under his belt and he was the weirdest Trill Rossi had ever seen. He'd always thought that joined Trills were not distinguishing between the personalities of a host and a symbiont but this one most definitely was. It weirded the poor Doctor out.

He was hoping to at least meet some friendly face onboard the ship itself but had no luck in that regard either. The welcoming committee, consisting of a dark-skinned Executive Officer, Derek Morgan and a Vulcan Lieutenant, T'Elle wearing a dockyard crew uniform, was serious as if both of them were Vulcans! While it was not strange for the Vulcan woman, one would hope for a smile or any . . . human . . . gesture form - as he presumed - a Human. If one glued pointed ears and risen eyebrows on that XO, he could pretend to be as perfect a Vulcan as the one standing next to him, Rossi thought with resignation.

"Let me show you to your quarters before we see the rest of the ship," the XO offered.

He walked beside the Doctor, while the Vulcan girl fell into step with the weird Trill. At least Rossi was free of that company. He heard the kid's chatty voice and realized the thousand-year-old symbiont was trying to make the Vulcan laugh. He'd rather talk to the space-fearing young host, if he were to choose.

"You served on the _Malinche_ , under Captain Sanders, didn't you?" the Executive Officer aimed for a polite conversation but picked the worst subject possible. After the unbecoming incident with Eddington a year ago, it was all _Malinche_ was remembered for.

"Yes," Rossi hissed, "I have and it was not the Captain's fault that the Maquis ambushed us!" Anger made him defensive. Unnecessarily, as it turned out.

"I never thought that it was," Morgan quirked an eyebrow in a very Vulcan-like way and Rossi thought this day couldn't possibly get any worse.

He knew why he was so uncomfortable - the Commander's question about his previous post made him see that - and it was entirely his fault. He was supposed to review the crew manifesto on his way to the _Temeraire_ and meeting Spencer Reid threw him off this task. So now, contrary to the Commander, he had no knowledge of either him, or the Trill. Not even medical data and he had never slacked that badly before.

He was looking forward to locking himself up in his quarters for the next half-hour and making up for it but the sight of a small room with two bunks and an excuse for a computer station nearly made him throw a fit.

"I'm going to share?" he asked with despair.

"This is a Defiant-class vessel," the XO informed him as if he didn't know. "Everybody shares living quarters."

"Save it," Rossi waved his hand dismissively. "I'd like to unpack now and . . . I'll find the sick bay later, if you don't mind," he told the Commander and the man was civil enough to nod and say, 'see you later, then'.

Sighing, the Doctor threw his bags on the lower bunk - at least, he got to choose one - and tried to remember what this important thing was he was supposed to be doing now.

Ah! The crew manifesto!

He sat at the computer desk, opened the XO's file first and almost fell off the chair. The man was no Human at all; he was a damn Betazoid! Doctor tried to remember if he thought any offending thoughts but his mind was blank. Oh, well. All he could count on, in case there was something shameful, was Commander Morgan's discretion and the Betazoid Code of Sentience.

Why, oh why didn't he take that retirement offer? Ah, because he loved his job! He was going to have to remind himself about that for the next few months until they were back and then, his foot would never again step onboard any spacecraft.

***

  
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**5 - Lieutenant Jareau Jeni**

***

"I'm still not sure this is a good idea," JJ said quietly. She half-hoped Aaron wouldn't hear this.

"We talked about it, JJ, and you must climb back into this saddle." He placed his warm hand on her neck and squeezed lightly. The horse comparisons . . . JJ smiled to herself. The big animal with long hair, she remembered. Aaron Hotchner often remembered his childhood on a farm on Earth with fondness and she had learned a lot more about Earth's fauna and flora from him than at the two-month course she took at the Academy when Bajor was applying for the membership in the Federation and many youngsters like herself wanted to join the Starfleet.

She learned a lot about Earth sayings. On Bajor they would say the Prophets chose this path for her and she couldn't stray. Different, but in this situation applied just as well.

"How did Will take the news that he and Henry won't be allowed on this ship?" Hotch asked gently.

"Better than I thought." JJ felt a pang of regret, a feeling different than simple overwhelming terror which accompanied her for the last two days, since she had been given her entry permit onboard the _Temeraire_. "Considering what happened with the _Quantico_ I'm really happy they weren't with us and even though I'm going to miss them, I'm glad they are not coming now."

Aaron pursed his lips; she saw it in the corner of her eye. Now she turned to face him head-on.

"What about you? Did you have a chance to see Haley and Jack while on Earth?"

"Yes, I have," Aaron smiled softly to the memories of his son. "Jack is so big already. He says that he's going to be Starfleet too and each time he does, Haley is ready to bolt."

"Is she . . .?" JJ wasn't sure how to phrase her question, but her commanding officer was able to read her better than she could ever read anyone.

"She is seeing someone. I think it's serious. Jack likes him too."

JJ felt tears prickle at her eyes. Poor Aaron. She couldn't imagine Will ever finding someone else but the way they parted yesterday . . . She feared that once she would have returned, she might find out Henry was not her son anymore. She shouldn't have accepted this job. She should have stayed with her family! But Aaron could be so convincing. He said that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was not a good excuse to quit, especially since she had been evaluated and the professionals had said she was dealing with her survivor's guilt. Well, she was a psychologist herself, a ship's Counselor; she probably anticipated their questions and knew what answers to give. That, Hotch could justify as well - if she gave the answers that allowed them to say she was able to put what happened to the _Quantico_ behind, that meant she really wanted to be 'back in the saddle'. It meant that she wanted to take revenge for her dead colleagues.

Come to think of it, maybe he was right? At first she'd thought - and not with anger or resentment, she could never feel that toward Aaron - that he simply wanted to have one familiar face onboard his new command and that's why he pushed her so hard. Now she felt it was because he genuinely cared about her. It didn't matter anyway. She was ready to do it, simply because he said so. She would follow Aaron anywhere; it was as simple as that. She hoped the crew he was given would share that sentiment because he really deserved it.

"There's our shuttle," Aaron announced. "I wonder who was so fast getting there before us."

"Number One, I presume," JJ smiled. She read Derek Morgan's files and he seemed like a very dutiful officer. She couldn't understand why mentioning him now made Hotch's face darken. "What is it?"

"Um . . . nothing." Apparently, whatever thoughts Hotch had made him uncomfortable. It couldn't be . . .

"It's not because he's a Betazoid, is it?"

"Well . . ." It was. JJ watched him, somewhat puzzled. She couldn't imagine her commanding officer acting xenophobic. It must have been something else. "I'll deal with it. I won't show him any disapproval and I think he will show how valuable he is fast enough." He shrugged and added, a little embarrassed. "I'm just not comfortable with people getting into my head, you know?"

JJ knew. His was the quickest evaluation after _Quantico's_ destruction - he didn't allow the comission to ask him too many questions.

"Let's board her," she said, suppressing a chuckle.

"Wait!" Aaron grabbed her elbow so suddenly that she almost yelped.

"What?"

"What's going on?" his voice was alarmed and JJ felt her own heart quicken its pace. Was something wrong?

Hotch ran to the viewscreen of the waiting room. It was displaying _Temeraire_ hanging in the yard, attached by wires and tubes, docked over a mile away from a much, much larger _Bahadur_. Motionless, in zero gravity.

At least, she should have been motionless . . .

But she most definitely wasn't . . .

"Why is she moving?" Aaron asked virtually no one. He tapped into the communication array, " _Temeraire_ , this is Captain Hotchner, what's going on up there?" he almost screamed.

No one answered.

" _Temeraire_!"

"Sir, we are trying to assess the situation," a voice from the console reported. "This is the Dockyard personnel. Please let us work it out."

"Yes," Hotch muttered and stepped away from the console. JJ could easily see what kind of thoughts were running through his head. His ship, his new ship he hadn't even taken under his command yet, was acting out, presumably in danger and all he could do was watch. She clung to him, hoping to at least share his terror. To at least help him carry this burden.

***

 **6 - Ensign Spencer Reid (Spencer)**

***

So Spencer used to be curious and courageous, almost resulting in stupidity. Not anymore. The joining procedure had changed him. No matter how much Reid believed that his host would be that fearless boy again, Spencer knew better than that. He should go back to the Committee and tell them to take the symbiont out and give him a more suitable host. Of course, he would die then but it would be for Reid's benefit.

The worst of it was that he couldn't even have thoughts like that. Reid knew immediately.

 _You're just tired, Spence, maybe you should have some sleep?_ he'd say.

 _So you and Deanna can take over my mind?_ Spencer would joke.

Truth be told, Deanna was the only thing keeping him relatively sane. It was said that the previous personalities of symbionts would try to overpower the new host at the first sign of weakness. Not Deanna. Apparently, years of knowing her before joining created that special link where, toward the end of her life Spencer seemed more important to her than even Reid. He knew she would never do anything against him, nor would she allow Reid to do that. He was safe, asleep or not.

He didn't want to sleep now. Yes, he was tired; Reid's excitement over this assignment had worn them both out. Or rather had worn out the body, and the part of the mind that was Spencer experienced the bodily needs more than Reid did. He knew that Reid was eager to see the bridge though and, yeah, alright, maybe he was a little eager too. So when T'Elle asked if he would like to stay in his quarters or see his post, he chose the latter.

The bridge was not as impressive as those of larger ships, at least, at first sight but both Spencer and Reid knew what was underneath - some of the most sophisticated systems in the Federation. The most advanced technologies helped to maintain this little piece of art. It may have been simple in design but _Temeraire_ had the heart of a demon.

Spencer ran his fingers over the flat surface of the Conn console.

"How do you like it?" he heard a soft, deep voice from behind his back. He turned to see a dark-skinned man with a very pleasant smile. Commander Morgan.

"Sir!" Spencer stood at attention.

"At ease, Ensign. You're the first pilot, is that correct?"

"I . . . yes . . . hope so," Spencer stammered. He thought about giving the reins of this conversation away to Reid but the symbiont maliciously told him to face his superiors himself. Bastard!

T'Elle, standing right next to the Commander, glared at him with risen eyebrow. Well, it was Reid who occupied her with witty chatter while on their way from the shuttle bay. Spencer hoped his crewmates would get used to him changing personality every three minutes.

 _Your buddies at the Academy did,_ Reid intruded. _No reason for those here not to. Unless we eventually join for real and will become one whole person_ , he added gently. Spencer knew there was nothing Reid wanted more than completion of their joining but he was unbelievably patient about this. To the point that it made Spencer feel guilty. _Stop it, boy! I wouldn't change you for the world!_ Right.

"May I turn it on?" Spencer asked instead. He knew this would make Reid happy.

"Just don't fly us away from here," the Commander joked.

"I'll run diagnostics." Spencer sat down immediately, feeling excitement tinged with anxiousness - both almost positively his, even if Reid was excited too.

"She had completed at least three check-ups here," the Commander reminded. "Besides, we will be running full system evaluation before we take off tomorrow. You may check how the console reacts but leave the more advanced procedures for later."

"Alright," Spencer said. He wasn't about to disobey orders on his first day, so instead of actually entering any commands, he opened the dialogue-box and looked through the command lines of the console. To a skilled eye - and one of Reid's older hosts was a computer specialist - reading code lines felt almost like the real thing.

That's when he saw it.

"What's that?" There was a stray line right in the middle, a line that most definitely didn't belong. It was in a place where a link allowing for the simultaneous use of this console as Conn and Ops should have been.

He tried to access the Operations systems . . .

And then all commands went haywire.

"What's going on?" the Commander demanded as the ship shook strangely.

"We're . . . moving!" the Vulcan Lieutenant sounded alarmed.

And Spencer . . . Spencer realized what he'd done and . . . he froze . . .

***

 **7 - Commander Derek Morgan**

***

The kid was odd. One moment he seemed to be self-confident and funny, at the other he bowed his head and spoke so softly one needed to strain their ears to hear anything.

Morgan was tempted to sense him but he knew it would be futile. Joined Trills were impossible to read for Betazoids, as the brain patterns of symbionts' minds were too different from those of humanoid bodies. He remembered something about 'incomplete join' from this Trill's files but his knowledge of the Trill physiology was not sufficient to tell what that meant.

"Don't run full diagnostics," he told the kid but obviously it didn't register.

As Morgan was about to ask if a new transport was on their way already - the Captain could come any moment - the ship shook slightly.

"What's going on?" he looked around, alarmed.

Ensign Reid sat at his console, his long, slender fingers hovering above the darkened, flat surface. T'Elle stared at the tactical screen.

"We're moving," she reported.

"I can feel that, but why?" Derek jumped up to the Command chair and stared at his displays. He had to power them on first then reconfigure them as Operations in order to see the internal systems of the ship and why they were acting up. Meanwhile, he expected the pilot to give him a report, which he totally didn't do!

"Reid!" Morgan yelled.

"I'm rerouting Operations to Tactical Two!" T'Elle announced, obviously of the same mind as the Commander.

The floor vibrated as if a monster was waking up underneath.

"The engines are powering up!"

"Chief Engineer to the Bridge!"

"Ropes are loose!"

"Reid! Stop that ship!"

Still no reaction. Morgan looked up.

"Reid!"

He heard a sound. An odd, scary sound, different from the impulse engine. A kind of wail, moaning. As he stared at the pilot who sat stiffly, unmoving, he realized the sound was coming from him.

Morgan was on his feet in an instant. He hardly registered T'Elle's calm, "We're heading toward _Bahadur_ , sir. Distance - twenty two hundred fifteen meters and closing. Still can't access Operations."

"Reid?" the Commander leaned over the unmoving pilot.

The Ensign's lips moved like they weren't his own. "Ayyyy, caaaant . . ." he moaned.

"What?" Damn! Everything would be easier if he could communicate with the Trill telepathically. Right now, he wouldn't worry about the risks for himself! "You can't? Can't what?"

"Speenceee . . . mmmm dyyying!"

Spencer? The Trill's files went through the Commander's head. 'Incomplete join'? Was it why he was acting like two people? Was the host rejecting the symbiont? Morgan may not have known much about Trill physiology but he knew enough - if a host rejected a symbiont and there was no other host standing by, they would both die. The host would die either way.

Morgan cast a glance at Tactical. The number depicting the distance from the _Bahadur_ was decreasing.

"Sir, Lieutenant Garcia reporting to the bridge! What's going on?" a high-pitched voice reached Morgan's ears. He hoped this was the Chief Engineer.

"Power down the engines. Now!" he yelled, not even turning to look at her.

He weighed his options frantically. He could push the pilot away and take his post but being a science officer before this assignment, Morgan wasn't a skilled enough fly-boy to be certain he would avoid collision with the _Bahadur_. Spencer Reid excelled at flying. They needed _him_.

Not to mention that Morgan hated the thought that if no one helped the Trill, it would kill not one, but two living beings. Maybe, just maybe, he had the ability to save them instead.

Betazoids could read minds of un-joined Trills. This Betazoid could do much more than read minds.

 _Spencer_ , he reached out and commanded, _Don't reject your symbiont._ He felt a strange pressure in the boy's mind. A pressure pushing him out. _Spencer! Join with your symbiont! You have to JOIN!_ he forced the young Trill to obey with the last of his will, before the overwhelming mute and invisible force threw him out and he stumbled against the deck, losing consciousness.

***

 **8 - Ensign Spencer Reid (Reid)**

***

Reid couldn't remember ever feeling like this - half-blind, half-deaf, paralyzed and unable to breathe. He couldn't even communicate his discomfort and Spencer was completely out of his reach. The most similar feeling was when his host was dying and he was hanging in limbo, waiting for the next one to take him in. Except that this host was not dying!

Spencer was rejecting him. Now Reid remembered he had felt like this - when he had been first entered into Spencer. The boy wouldn't admit him and it took all his will and experience of over a dozen joins to get through those most difficult hours. Later, even though their symbiosis was at a constant risk, nothing like this had happened again. Until now.

 _Spencer!_ he tried to call out but it was no use. He tried to speak through the boy's lips but they were disobedient. He heard someone calling him, "Reid, Reid!" through the fog but he couldn't answer. He mumbled something but he had no idea if he was understood.

And then there was a presence . . . as if another personality invaded the space inside Spencer's mind. Reid had control over him to a degree - lesser than with his previous hosts but no one else could enter this mind without his knowledge and permission! No one!

What was this thing doing in here? Reid used all his diminishing strength to throw this invading presence from the mind that was rightfully his and it felt as if a cork popped out of the bottle. Suddenly light flooded him; sounds, loud and clear like he hadn't heard for thirteen years. Smells. The air smelled of sweat and fear but this was the sweetest thing Spencer Reid had ever smelled.

He looked around and took in the danger in an instant.

Someone behind him gave off a strangled, "Eeek!"

The Vulcan girl said in a calm and reliable tone, "Power down the engines, Lieutenant!" then added, "Distance - eighteen hundred fifty seven meters and closing!"

Spencer Reid shot a glance at navigation readings and his fingers started dancing on the console. He had to not only pilot the _Temeraire_ away from the Flagship now, but at the same time override the Trojan Command Code which wreaked havoc with the system. Whenever he managed to steer her clear, the damn virus would hit from the other side and _Temeraire_ flew where she wanted. Or rather where the virus wanted her to.

"T'Elle!" he called out. "I need you to access Conn from the outside and check all the command codes. You'll have to remove the virus code manually!"

"On it! What's with the engines?"

"Almost. Under. Control." The girl's voice from behind Spencer was focused and vicious. "There!" the Chief Engineer yelled triumphantly. "I knew something was wrong with my systems the moment I opened them, so I went straight to the Holosuite and ran a simulation. Engines are at your service again. Now move over, sweetness." Reid saw in the corner of his eye that the Vulcan was being pushed away from her console by a rather colorful-looking individual. He regretted not being able to tear his eyes away from the Conn at the moment but he'd rather not lose an inch.

"What's our distance from the _Bahadur_?" he asked instead.

"Twenty hundred fifty six meters. We're steering toward other scouts now. Safe distance, but not for long, at this speed!"

"We'll keep it safe if I have a say about it," Spencer promised.

"Done!" The colorful girl announced joyfully.

Spencer felt the difference immediately. _Temeraire_ obeyed him now like the good girl that she was. She swung through the opening between two other docked scouts and flew into the open space freely. There, the pilot disengaged engines and halted her, hoping to give everyone on the bridge a breather.

This was some wild ride.

"Awesome," Chief Engineer didn't hide her excitement and Spencer looked at her closely for the first time.

She had blonde hair with red streaks and she was wearing _a dress_. A person on a Starship in a dress was an oddity but this dress was also pale beige with a yellow-and-pink flowery pattern. The woman wearing it had the biggest, happiest smile Spencer Reid had ever seen. It faltered slightly when she saw him glaring at her dress but she covered her embarrassment quickly.

"What? I didn't have the time to change. I came onboard and was too curious, so I went to only take a look at the Engineering and then I just had to check . . ."

"What happened to him?" T'Elle interrupted them suddenly, kneeling on the other side of the Conn console.

Spencer Reid felt strange tingling in his spine. There, on the floor, mostly hidden behind his console but now that he got up, clearly visible, lay Commander Morgan.

He did something before . . . Reid couldn't clearly remember; he did something to Spencer . . . No!

 _Spencer!_ No! No, he couldn't, not now. _Don't go, don't do that!_

It was too late. Spencer, who for the last few minutes operated with him in a perfect union, together, _joined_ . . . now, withdrew, like he always had. Ran away, shrank into his corner of their common mind.

 _Spencer, we could stay together,_ Reid pleaded.

 _He's hurt!_ Spencer wailed in response. _He's hurt because of me!_

"It's my fault!" He said out loud.

"It's not, sugar." The blonde Chief Engineer laid a hand on his shoulder, staring down worriedly at the Commander's prone form.

"Actually," Reid decided he needed to take over. Situation was still not cleared and apparently none of those children were able to deal with the mess. "It doesn't matter whose fault it is."

"It totally does!" Spencer argued.

Chief Engineer turned to him wide eyed. Oh, well, he rarely made a good first impression.

"Don't mind him," said T'Elle, "He's weird."

"Doctor to the bridge!" Reid tapped his comm-badge and inside he quietly asked Spencer to shut up and let him work. "Meanwhile, we need to close up the ship and make sure no one leaves or boards. We had sabotage here and we need to find out who's responsible for that."

"Well, if that is the case, you're not the one giving orders around here," the Vulcan Lieutenant interrupted. "Firstly, you're only an Ensign and secondly, _Temeraire_ is still under Dockyard personnel jurisdiction. That means I'm the commanding officer here."

"Someone from your Dockyard personnel entered those virus codes into our systems, Lieutenant!" Reid hovered above her. Spencer was damn tall and Reid enjoyed using this advantage on other people. T'Elle backed away, her demeanor unchanging. She was right about him being just an Ensign, though. Damn! Reid had been an Admiral in his days but right now that experience had to be stored on a shelf. "I believe that Lieutenant . . ." he turned to the Chief Engineer.

"Garcia," Chief Engineer squeaked. "Penelope Garcia."

"Lieutenant Garcia is the oldest officer onboard. Therefore, she takes command."

"Actually, no," someone said from the hatch. "I am the oldest." It was Rossi. "Lieutenant Commander Doctor Rossi, if you please. Now Ensign, return to your post, because we may still ram into something if you don't steer that ship. You should return us to the Dockyard too. Lieutenant Garcia. Power up the thrusters, so we can do it slow and easy, not like that tumble we've just performed. And you, Lieutenant T'Elle, please try to contact traffic control and tell them we're fine. If the Captain is anywhere near, we'd be glad to welcome him onboard."

"Excuse me," Reid couldn't quite agree with all the commands. "I think we should order the ship under quarantine. If this was a Changeling-"

"Allowing someone from the outside won't be letting the Changeling out. And the ship needs her Captain. Meanwhile, we all have work to do. Get on with it!"

He glared at Reid for a moment and when the pilot nodded and returned to his console, the doctor in turn leaned over the Commander. Having run a tricoder over him back and forth he asked three enlisted to help him carry him down to the med-bay - transporters were off limits in such a crisis.

Spencer wanted to know what was happening with the man but Reid, very sternly, told him to keep doing his job. This would be the best way to help everyone.

***

 **9 -- Lieutenant Commander Emily Prentiss**

***

Emily Prentiss’s worst feature was that she was always late. Always. The only time she wasn’t had been when she’d been born -- three months premature. Other than that, school, academy, work . . . you name it.

She run into the terminal waiting room nearly breathless, only to see . . . that guy in a captain’s uniform.

“Sir?” he didn’t even turn to her, watching a display on the wall with intensity sugesting something important was going on out there.

A Bajoran blonde woman in a science officer uniform nodded at her with a tight-lipped smile. Her eyes were large with fear.

Emily took the remaining few steps separating her from the pair and from the view screen. It showed an empty spot where -- she presumed, knowing how docking yards looked like -- a ship should have been. Their _Temeraire_ most likely.

“Oops,” she muttered.

“Yeah,” the blonde Bajoran nodded.

“Captain,” a voice from the console chirped. “We have a message from _Temeraire_ ; they have stabilized the situation -- for now -- and they want you to come onboard. The shuttle is ready.”

“Let’s go then!” The Captain lunched forward. “You are Lieutenant Commander Prentiss, right?” he asked not even turning to look at her.

“That’s right,” Emily nodded.

“You’re coming with us.”

“Sir,” the pilot of the shuttle protested. “There are only two passenger seats.”

“I’ll take the second pilot seat.” The Captain ordered the terrified ensign out of the ship. “Now go!”

“And I thought I would be late,” Emily muttered to the Bajoran. “Emily Prentiss, Chief of Security.” She extended her hand.

“Jareau Jeni,” the blonde smiled. “Nurse and/or Counselor. My friends call me JJ.”

“JJ, nice. A Bajoran in Starfleet?” Emily expressed her surprise. Bajor had joined the Federation less than a year ago.

“There will be more and more of us.” JJ nodded with confidence. Emily liked that. She thought they would be friends.

Jury was still out on the Captain. The man sat beside the pilot, his brow furrowed, and twitched as if his seat burned. The pilot was flying as fast as the shuttle’s engines allowed.

“Scary fellow,” Emily muttered to JJ.

“He’s only worried. For a moment here we thought _Temeraire_ was lost” The Bajoran visibly shivered.

Emily gazed at her with inquiery on the tip of her tongue. At this moment she remembered that both the Bajoran Lieutenant and the Captain were the survivors from the destruction of _Quantico_ , the ship their Admiral was from as well. Now she wondered what exactly was the relationship between JJ and their commading officer. She bit her tongue though and didn’t say anything because questions like this? Not the best idea on the first day.

The shuttle had a little longer way to cover than on a standard route and boarding also reminded that in an open space more than a routine maneuver in a dock-yard. _Temeraire_ returned to the docking perimeter but the communicate came that they were not plugging in. Apparently they suspected a Changling threat and that was not to be ignored.

The trio was welcomed in the shuttle bay by a Vulcan Lieutenant and a Human Doctor.

“Lieutenant Commander Doctor David Rossi, sir! I gladly relinquish the command of _Temeraire_ into your hands, Captain.”

“I take command,” the Captain announced. “Where’s Commander Morgan?”

“Ha was incapacitated during the attack and I haven’t yet determined what happened to him or how to treat it. With your permission, sir, I’d like to return to him. Lt T’Elle can brief you on the situation.”

“Permission granted, Doctor, you may return to your duties. JJ, go with him. Lieutenant, report.”

The Vulcan explained how a virus messed with commands of Conn console and that similar viruses were discovered in all other ship systems. She couldn’t explain how that sabotage was missed by her crew but the Captain’s wrath seemed to have little effect on her. Right now the only severe damage was to the Operations system but T’Elle said that in a few days her crew would have it fixed.

“We don’t have a few days,” the Captain seethed barely opening his mouth. “We take off tomorrow!”

To that T’Elle simply clammed up.

Captain Hotchner took one look at the bridge and begun issuing orders. Emily got the biggest task -- find the Changeling. Well, she was the Security Officer alright. She threw her bag under the table in the back of the bridge and called the dock-yard security team. Wasn’t much to work with, barely three people but she would deal with what she had.

First she checked them herself, took a sample of their blood and when they proved clear, she paired them up -- herself with a skinny kid named Railey and the two others together.

“Don’t separate. Whatever happens, stay together. If you let your partner out of your sight for a second, you can’t trust him anymore. The two of you, take deck one and three, me and Railey will do two and four. Go.”

She also initiated the phaser sweep of all interiors of the ship. The results would either be avaliable later or a low energy pahser beam would locate a Changling and force it to return to its natural liquid form.

***

 **10 -- Lieutenant T’Elle**

***

The Captain was an intimidating man. He up and said that the Conn console was supposed to be functioning like on schedule. After such damage. T’Elle wouldn’t get upset about it, oh, no! She felt fear of failing bubbling up in her stomach but she knew exactly how to control it. A deep breath and it smoothed out, another breath and it was completely gone.

Now all she had to do was figure out how to make the system work, which was technically impossible, within less than fifteen hours left till launch.

“You need a hand with that?” she heard a timid question from behind her left arm. Turning there she met the eager blue eyes of the Chief Engineer.

They hadn’t had the best of first encounters earlier that day.

She wanted to say, ‘I can handle that,’ but she thought better of it. The truth was she had no idea where to begin.

“It is logical to accept your offer.” She voiced her ultimate conclusion.

“Great!” Lieutenant Garcia smile broadly. “Look, I’m sorry about earlier,” she started talking real quick, as she sat at the console and started flipping through commands. “But, see, I was never going to use the Holosuite for fun! I’m not like that, although I like my share of fun too. You know I brought that really intense holonovel with me, so if we ever get free time, we might play, not that I think we will have any free time . . . Anyway. What I wanted to do today was not to have fun but find out what was wrong with commands in Engineering. See, I had two faculties at the Academy and the second one was with computers, so I know code and this code was definitely bogus so I wrote a quick holo-simulation of launch sequence and came up with quite a spectacular explosion. I though we still had time, so instead of reporting it immediately -- which I should have done, I admit now -- I tried to find a way to disarm it, so to speak. I’m glad my test-run back there worked,” she shivered glancing at the Engineering console on the Bridge where she had in fact saved the day earlier on. “The glitch in the Conn console started a chain-reaction of other virus codes and the whole ship started getting out of control. It was touch and go for a while, but everything is now restored.” She sighed heavily glaring at the console. “But for one station.” Garcia looked up at T’Elle. “This one can’t be saved but you already know that, don’t you?”

“It is operational as Helm, isn’t it?” the weird Trill supplied from the side. The Vulcan knew it was and she hoped the other Lieutenant wasn’t going to question that assesement.

“Sure but that’s not what it should serve,” said Garcia.

Of course, the ship needed its Ops. T’Elle looked around, her calculating mind looking for options. She found one, not the very best but under the circumstances the most suitable.

“We could change one of the Tactical stations into Operations.”

“A ‘Defiant’-class battleship needs its both Tactical stations,” Garcia never failed at challenge.

T’Elle felt anger bubble up deep within her stomach.

“It needs working Operations more than two Tactical,” she said calmly.

“True.” This time Garcia nodded. “We’ll need to get the Captain’s okay for that though.”

“I’ll take care of that.” T’Elle marched out of the bridge before anyone could supply any other idea. They needed to act not chat.

The Captain was in his quarters and the Vulcan braced herself before entering.

“Sir,” she stood at attention and glared above his left shoulder. “I believe I may have a solution for the Conn station, sir.”

He looked up from the padd he was reading. He paused in the middle of the room but she could swear that a moment ago he’d been pacing. He was upset, she could see that. She was too, probably everyone was but the difference was that no one could say that just by looking at a Vulcan. It made her strangely proud.

“Why do I sense a ‘but’ here?” the Captain asked.

“Because there is one,” T’Elle admitted with ease. “I have a reason to believe that you will not like this solution.”

Captain Hotchner sighed, “Go ahead.”

“We need to reconfigure one of the Tactical stations into Operations and only leave the Helm within the Conn console. More thorough repairs would require a couple of additional days in the dockyard.”

“Out of the question,” the Captain summed it up just like she anticipated. “Proceed.” His attention was once again focused on his padd, brow furrowed. As she turned to the door though, he called after her. “Oh, Lieutenant T’Elle! I would need an officer to manage the Operations console then.”

T’Elle quirked an eyebrow at him. Of course he would, why telling her about it?

“I’m sure the Headquarters would provide someone, or . . .” she was about to suggest simply someone from the crew, most of the people had multiple skills, but he cut her off.

“I don’t have the time for this.” His posture was so naturally authoritative that T’Elle had to stop and marvel at it. She absorbed his words like they were a divination. “I need someone now and I’d like it to be someone who knows the ship inside and out. You worked Operations during the incident, didn’t you?”

“I did, sir!” her heart quickened even as her face remained unchanged. She had to control her bodily responses as she controlled her expression. Quickened heartbeat was too exaggerated for the situation.

“I’ll file a request to your commanding officer for transfer,” even if it was a dream-come-true. She needed to remain logical!

“Yes, sir,” T’Elle stuttered.

Captain Hotchner eyed her for a few seconds.

“Unless you have some objection?” he asked gently. “Would you have any doubts about staying on ‘ _Temeraire_ ’?”

“No, sir!” T’Elle nearly exclaimed. Logic, logic! “I mean I am flattered by your trust, sir. Nonetheless I fear about the morale of the crew.” She had no idea where this thought came from and she had no idea why she babbled. It was possible that the Captain didn’t consider it babbling, however a Vulcan talking more than absolutely necessary was always babbling. “It’s already crowded here and adding new people to the already overcrowded ship may cause disturbances later on.”

“That’s nothing for you to concern yourself with,” the Captain said in a very calm, if not sad tone. Then, before T’Elle managed to apologize he dismissed her and as she was leaving she noticed him staring at the padd in his hands again with furrowed brow and pursed lips. As the door swoosched closed she thought she saw him starting to pace again.

***

 **11 -- Captain Aaron “Hotch” Hotchner**

***

The Vulcan didn’t need to worry about the ship being overcrowded. Well, it obviously was, fifty crew members was its maximum capacity but her coming here would be more of an exchange between officers. She would be coming onboard and the Commander would be leaving.

This really wasn’t fair and Hotch knew it but what else was there to do? Doctor Rossi couldn’t find the way to help the First Officer.

“His brain patterns are off the charts,” he had told the Captain a few minutes ago, down in the SickBay. “If I can’t stabilize him soon, he’ll die.”

“We can’t get anyone or anything off the ship now, Doctor, you know that.” It wasn’t as easy to say as it sounded but they couldn’t risk the Changeling taking a form of a gurney wheel or someone’s shoe and leaving _Temeraire_. “Have you considered putting him in stasis?”

“It’s not the best solution, Captain.”

“It’s the only one we have.”

It was better than risking that the Commander would actually die. This he _didn’t_ want! . . .

This thought made Aaron Hotchner realize that he was actually feeling relief. A relief that Derek Morgan would be off his ship. A bad, _bad_ feeling under the circumstances, one he was deeply, profoundly ashamed of the very second he became aware of it. He was a Starfleet officer and this? This was unbecoming! Xenophobia was still present in the darkest corners of the Federation, on some remote moons, in any given race but at the heart of the multiracial society, in the Starfleet which fought to protect the diversity of cultures it was unthinkable!

Aaron Hotchner was _not_ a xenophobe. It was only Betazoids that made him feel uneasy.

The day he realized he would have a Betazoid as his deputy, his closest assistant, he’d had to endure a battle within himself. He’d thought he’d won. He hadn’t filed for a change in the assignments -- after all what would he have based that request on? He had come to the ship today slightly apprehensive but open-minded nonetheless -- only to find out that he wouldn’t get to meet his second-in-command.

And that notion immediately set him at ease, he now realized. He was quick to advise the Doctor to get rid of the Commander. It wasn’t his fault after all, it was circumstances. There was nothing he could do. There really was nothing he could do, even if he wanted!

The Captain needed to stop mulling over his guilt and self-depreciation. He had a job to do, a ship to run and he would need a helping hand to run it. There was no time to request the Headquarters for a replacement for the incapacitated Commander and the only other person onboard could serve as the First Officer.

“Captain to Lieutenant Commander Prentiss.” He tapped his comm-badge.

“Prentiss here.”

“Come to my Ready Room.”

“Um . . .” it sounded as if she hesitated, then. “Right away, sir.”

She was at his door in less than a minute. Stood at attention and saluted.

“At ease. Lieutenant Commander,” Hotch cut straight to the chase. “I will need you to take over the duties of the First Officer of _Temeraire_.”

Emily Prentiss’s jaw dropped open for a split second but she got a grip over herself immediately.

“Yes, sir!” she replied but she obviously couldn’t hold back her curiosity. “May I ask why, sir?”

“Commander Morgan was injured during the attack,” Hotch wouldn’t normally explain himself to his subordinate but in this case he needed to justify his actions. Perhaps more before himself than before the curious Lieutenant. “There’s nothing the Doctor can do to help him onboard, he needs to be transferred out of the ship and we cannot wait for him to recover. We need to disembark tomorrow.”

“I understand, sir.” Prentiss nodded. “I hope the Commander will get well, sir.”

“Me too,” Hotch said, dropping his gaze and realizing how it looked. He really, sincerely hoped the Commander would be okay. He was just . . . relieved . . . that they wouldn’t serve together. Damn! This whole assignment was starting in the worst possible way! In order to turn his thoughts to different tracks, the Captain requested for the report on the search for the Changeling.

“We are testing each crew member, then we will compare it with the manifesto. We’ve also conducted a general phaser sweep. If there is a Changeling onboard the ship, we’ll find it,” the Lieutenant reported. Hotch realized that he called her off this task. Really, he needed to focus.

“Get back to your duties then,” he ordered and Lieutenant Prentiss saluted and left immediately.

The Captain tried to focus on his other tasks, he conferred with Admiral Gideon and informed him about what occurred onboard _Temeraire_ so far.

“This is really bad about Morgan,” Jason Gideon seemed to be more concerned about the Commander than about the Changeling threat.

“You have requested him, didn’t you?” Aaron guessed. “Have you served with him?”

“No, I haven’t. He was a cadet at the Academy though, when I had my brief adventure with teaching there. He started right after you had finished.” Jason smiled his tight-lipped smile which made his eyes crinkle. It was a special smile, one reserved for people he was particularly fond of. Hotch felt his stomach churn. He probably should reconsider his opinion on the Betazoid but the mere idea made him recoil. Besides it was too late! “Rossi is a great doctor,” Gideon continued. “I won’t believe he can’t deal with this case. All you have to do is kick his ass, he tends to be a bit of a drama queen sometimes. While you need to be a Captain, Aaron. Let them all know you won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Motivate them!”

Motivate them. Right. It would be easier if it was honest.

“Yes, sir!” Aaron answered.

“If that doesn’t help, as soon as you will have dealt with that Changeling, transport Morgan to _Bahadur’s_ sickbay.”

“Yes, sir!”

That was unexpected. But then, Aaron should have predicted it, the flag ship had a much more sophisticated medical facilities and Morgan could have been treated there just as well as on the station, or down on Earth. He rushed that decision of getting rid of him and right now he felt so stupid about it he wished to hide in a nearest jeffries tube. Luckily for him Gideon disconnected with him at this moment so no further questions were asked.

He had job to do. He had to find the enemy and he had to kick one doctor’s ass. And he would. And he really hoped it would be enough to save the Betazoid, even if then he would have a person able to get into his head onboard his ship. He would handle that with a dignity of a Starfleet Captain!

***

 **12 -- Lieutenant Penelope Garcia**

***

“There you go,” she said with a smile to the scrawny kid who, for the last half an hour, hovered above her arm and told her what to do and when. They argued more than thirty times in those thirty minutes but in the end the console was ready to function without any glitches in the predictable future.

“Thank you.” Spencer Reid smiled back at her. He had a face of a boy, large, innocent eyes and honest smile but he acted like a man much, much older. He made her mad and in the very next second he made her laugh and he was warm and kind.

“Sorry that you only get half of your console,” she told him, “but hey, at least you saved the day with it earlier on, right?”

“I think we did it together,” he winked at her and Garcia blushed. He was thoughtful enough to notice her part in solving all this calamity. She was going to like him.

Now that she finished the job she was assigned, the feelings of anxiety and fear crept nearer. They were under attack and they still haven’t found the invader. Some of their crew got hurt and the ship was cut off of the rest of the fleet. There was no way to get of it now and as the realization hit Garcia, she started feeling slightly claustrophobic. Her breath quickened, her heart started racing and she thought she needed to find something to occupy herself with and she needed to do it quickly.

“Don’t you need to change?” she heard Lieutenant Reid’s soft voice and she knew he saw what was going on with her.

She looked at herself. True, she was still wearing that flowery dress she came onboard yesterday evening. She hadn’t slept all night. It helped, it paid off but she was damn tired. She couldn’t imagine falling asleep until this was over though and right now she probably needed to check if all was still well in Engineering.

But change first.

“Thanks,” she patted the tall Trill on the arm and went to her quarters.

It was on deck two, really close to her realm, the Engineering, and she was thankful for that. Her bag lay on the bunk just like she threw it, the other bunk was still empty. Penelope found her uniform and put it on. Uniform was the only thing she really didn’t like about her job -- while it was efficient and comfortable, it was also for slim people and she was everything but slim. Oh, Penelope wouldn’t be herself if she complained but did nothing about it. Adding a patch here and a flounce there, she made it look less offending, while to an unskilled eye those changes weren’t noticeable.

Okay, so she could have taken those dietary prescriptions so many people were using, or even some gene-blockers which would make her thin like the next top model. She could have but she didn’t want to. She was who she was and how she was and if anyone had a problem with that, it was just that -- _their_ problem.

 _Today she was cranky though, lack of sleep would do that to her, so if anyone would say anything, Penelope Garcia might get unpleasant._

 _Good thing no one got in her way._

 _“How’s the progress here?” she approached an ensign at the computer console. Her plaque said, ‘Ens. Clara Hayes’._

 _“I’m running through the codes again, to check for any stray subroutines,” the girl responded. She was one of the dock-yard personnel, actually everyone was and Garcia thought that each and any of them might be a hidden Changeling. She had no reason to trust her or anyone onboard!_

 _“I checked and repaired them!” she said angrily._

 _Ensign Hayes turned her frightened gaze to the Chief Engineer. “It was an order from Lieutenant T’Elle. She’s overseeing the transference of _Temeraire_ from the dock yard to Captain Hotchner’s command and she wants the ship to be free of viral codes. She wants to be extra-sure it’s free.”_

Garcia felt silly. She shouldn’t have attacked the girl like this. The dock-yard people weren’t under her command, they were indeed under the Vulcan Lieutenant. And who knew if the Vulcan herself wasn’t a posed Changeling! She would be the most logical choice!

“I’m sorry,” Penelope patted the ensign’s arm. “Keep at it,” she commanded and went to another console. Seriously, all those changelings were making her paranoid.

Since the ensign was already on the main sequence codes, Garcia decided to check all the auxiliary systems. And true enough, the impulse amplitude in the sonic showers was a little too high, the heating subroutines in the replicators a tad too efficient and the oxygen saturation a fraction of percent too low. None of this was immediately life-threatening, nonetheless it would make life onboard _Temeraire_ unpleasant, if not annoying, undermining the crew morale slowly but surely. Damn changelings, they even had a plan B.

Garcia called the dock-yard ensigns, including Clara Hayes and assigned them to adjust each of the systems, since they required manual manipulation. She was to go check luminosity, temperature and all the life-support systems when Lieutenant Commander Prentiss entered the Engineering and ordered everyone to stay where they were.

“I’m going to take a sample of each of your blood and verify that neither of you is a changeling,” Prentiss announced.

Garcia felt her heart start to race. She watched everyone around her but nobody wanted to flee. Everyone was nervous but they all extended their wrists and allowed for a blood sample to be taken. No blood turned into golden gel.

“Get back to your duties,” Prentiss told them and Penelope Garcie breathed a loud sigh of relief.

Her superior glanced at her and smirked.

“It is stressful, isn’t it?” she smiled reassuringly. Dark haired and fair skinned, the Security Chief looked like a Queen Winter but her smile was bright and warm.

“Indeed.” Garcia nodded. “Penelope,” she extended her hand and realized a moment too late that she was out of line. “Sorry, I shouldn’t switch to first-name basis with a superior officer like that.”

“Don’t worry,” the other woman took her hand in hers and shook it firmly. “I’m Emily. And actually, considering everything,” she made a vague gesture indicating . . . well . . . everything, “It’s nice to be less formal for a change.” She appeared as if she wanted to say something more but in the end, she simply squeezed Garcia’s hand again, shook her head and motioned for her partner, the frightened skinny ensign, to follow her outside and to another task.

The Chief Engineer returned to hers.

***

 **13 -- Lieutenant Commander Doctor David Rossi**

***

Looking at the prone figure of the Commander laying on the biobed, Doctor Rossi thought about the ultimate failure of his profession. Death of a patient, obviously, that would be the ultimate failure. However how different was inducing a death-like state of stasis? And giving the patient away to another doctor to treat? Yes, the goal was to save the patient’s life and sometimes it was the circumstances more than one doctor’s inability and the skill of the other, so this should be out of his conscience. Because _Temeraire_? As sophisticated a weapon as she was, her medical facilities were rather deficient. They were maybe not _basic_ but their lack of certain level of development made it necessary for the one who managed them to be extra skilled. More than average skilled . . .

And there, right _there_ , lay the answer to Doctor David Rossi’s doubts.

He _was_ extra skilled if he said so himself. He had dealt with the shortage of a sophisticated equipment in his days and he damn well knew how to improvise. Captain’s orders be damned, he would bring that Betazoid back, no matter how his EEG patterns deviated from a healthy Betazoid brain.

“JJ!” he called out to his assistant, the Bajoran nurse. “We will attempt to stabilize him.”

The blonde’s eyes grew even larger than they already were. And pretty eyes she had, the sly doctor thought, briefly distracted. He shook the image of her naked body out of his mind right away. This was nor the time neither the place for such thoughts!

“Check all his neurotransmitters, we’ll start from there.”

The Commander’s glycine, gamma-aminocyne and acetylcholine levels were very high, while epinephrine, psilosynine and serotonin levels were dropping. The former neurotransmitters were either inhibitors or had a modulating role in the Betazoid nervous system, so the only conclusion Doctor Rossi could derive from those results was that the Commander’s brain was trying to stabilize itself. It didn’t change anything in the EEG pattern as of yet but considering that he was not flatlining, this could actually be a good sign.

“Very well,” Rossi told his assistant who glared at him expectantly. “We observe and wait. Update me every two minutes.”

JJ sighed and glued her eyes to the display over the Commander’s head.

Rossi opened a “Study of a Betazoid Mind” by a Human, Dr. Lorenz. The lack of a chair and a desk in this medical bay was really annoying and the doctor thought that he would have to request some remodeling because there was no way to do research and monitor the patient’s state at the same time. It was necessary sometimes and right now the Doctor knew that there was something he was missing about his Commander, something that might help making him better. He was almost certain he had seen this kind of brain activity in a Betazoid, the only thing he couldn’t remember was if it was in some seminar, or in an actual SickBay, sometime in his career. He hoped to find the clue in the dissertation, didn’t dig into it however, before JJ called, all frantic:

“He’s waking up!”

At the same time the Commander groaned as if in pain. Rossi was at his side in one step, running the tricoder over the patient’s body in search of any source of discomfort, as well as staring at the displays showing the brain activity. None gave him any clue.

“Leave . . .” the Betazoid breathed out, not opening his eyes.

“It’s okay!” Rossi leaned over him, trying to feel calm and soothing. This patient could register his anxiety and that could make him worse. Usually Betazoids could deal with any kind of negative emotions -- with better and worse outcome -- but this one was just coming out of coma, so Rossi wanted to be extra careful. “You’re going to be fine, you’re in good hands,” he said, squeezing Morgan’s hand.

“Get . . . out . . .” the Commander grunted in response.

“JJ,” the Doctor called his assistant, “get me--” he didn’t manage to finish though, when the Commander’s eyes shot open and his breath caught.

“Don’t--” he choked out. “Let’im in!”

The Doctor had a moment of incredulity but soon understood who the ill man had in mind when the door swooshed open and Captain Hotchner himself stood in them.

“Doctor--” he started asking but the Commander’s, “Please! Leave!” interrupted him.

“What’s going on in here?” The Captain strode toward the biobed. “Doctor, what’s happening?”

The patient writhed and cried, the doctor tried to administer a hypospray with a tranquilizer his smart nurse handed him and the Captain demanded an explanation. The latter had to wait.

And it had to wait a little longer than the Doctor anticipated, because just as the hypo hissed against the patient’s neck, he felt the overwhelming urge to get out of the sickbay through the nearest door, NOW! He found himself on the corridor, panting, and kept walking, even though it wasn’t exactly clear why, or where to.

He stopped at the turbolift.

“Captain to Doctor Rossi,” his comm-badge chirped and the voice of the Captain was more than annoyed. “What was that? Where are you?”

“I’m . . . sorry sir, I’ll be right back,” he said, but there was no force which would make him go back to the sick bay now. Instead he pressed the call-button for the elevator.

“Where are you?” the Captain repeated.

“At the turbolift.” In it actually, he thought.

“Same as us. Let’s meet in my ready room.”

Well, that was unexpected. As the Doctor entered the Captain’s cabin, he realized that all three of them, the Captain, the nurse and himself, were for some reason pushed out of the SickBay. There could only be one force able to do that.

“That Betazoid completely mind-controlled us!” the Captain seethed with such fury that Doctor Rossi felt honest fear for their Commander’s safety.

***

 **14 -- Lieutenant Jareau Jeni**

***

Hotch’s wrath was something to fear. And a justified wrath it was this time. Well, Hotch wasn’t wasting his time on unjustified wraths, or any other unjustified actions, JJ had to give him that but this time . . . oh, even she was angry!

She remembered the Cardasian rule. How they ordered the Bajorans do things, reigned them with orders and punishments. This? Was ten times worse. With Cardasians, they could at least have their resistance, they could fight back. Mind control such as exhibited by their Commander left no room for defiance. For the first half hour she couldn’t even _think_ about going back to the SickBay. The universe was damn lucky that the Betazoids were such a peaceful race.

After half hour JJ’s reluctance suddenly lifted and after pacing up and down her quarters for a couple minutes, she finally marched to the offending patient. When she came in, he was sitting on the biobed with his back to her and his legs down. Doctor Rossi stood in front of him, tricoder in hand and explained something patiently.

“I know Betazoid physiology,” she heard him say. Rossi noticed her but didn’t mention her presence in any other way but a quick glance in her direction. Instead he pressured the Commander. “I know enough about it to be aware at this point that _your_ physiology is not standard for your species.”

JJ took a few steps inside, rather uncertain if she should but Rossi didn’t make any move to stop her and she really needed to confront the man who did something that offensive to her. When her shoes clanked on the floor, Commander Morgan turned toward her, startled.

“Haven’t you sensed her presence?” Rossi asked and JJ saw a brief flash of anger in the Betazoid’s eyes. He quenched it, bowed his head. Instead the Doctor held her gaze for a moment, before speaking up again, this time with more force.

“You mind-controlled us.”

“I did,” the Commander admitted quietly.

“We do not appreciate it.”

“I asked.” Morgan looked up at Rossi and JJ couldn’t miss bitterness and resentment in his voice. “I used words and politely asked you to leave me alone. You wouldn’t. If you know so much about my physiology, then tell me why you couldn’t understand that I needed to recover and I needed emotional calm to achieve that.”

“I understand it now.” Rossi lay a calming hand on his patient’s shoulder. “Although I didn’t say I knew _your_ physiology, I only know it’s different than that of an average Betazoid. I would expect you to explain it to me, in order to avoid such misunderstandings in the future. I also believe that you should share your secret with the Captain. As well as apologize.”

“I know,” Morgan sighed and nodded. “I want to apologize.”

The Doctor closed his tricoder with a snap.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said. “If you want me to come with you, I’m willing to help you with that.”

The Commander slid down from the bed and stood up, one hand on the bed for support. He was a little shaky on his feet but he straightened his pose and squared his shoulders.

“It’s best to have it over with. Let’s go now.”

Rossi nodded but before they left, Morgan stopped him.

“Doctor,” he looked as if he hesitated but somehow JJ was sure it was not because he wasn’t sure if he should say those words, rather how he should phrase it, or maybe if it would be enough. “I’m sorry. You too,” he turned to JJ. “I’m sorry Lieutenant Jearou.”

He was sincere, JJ was certain of it. Strange, she forgot all resentment and now she even felt a little guilty. He was in pain, he begged them to leave and they thought that they knew better because they were doctors.

“It’s alright.” She extended her hand and Commander Morgan took it with a soft smile, his black eyes sparkling with hope.

Today she learned a few valuable things. She understood exactly why her Captain couldn’t trust the Betazoids and at the same time she learned that the Betazoid they had onboard could be trusted. She hoped all this would make her a better counselor for this crew.

Funny, she thought as she looked at the two men exiting the SickBay, usually it were Betazoids who were counselors on the starships. She wondered why this one was not.

***

 **15 -- Commander Derek Morgan**

***

He was supposed to welcome the Captain onboard. Now all chances for a good first impression were ruined. And this was the least of the Commander’s worries.

His primary one was that he violated his Captain’s privacy by getting into his head and ordering him to get out of the SickBay. It was an instinctive reaction, the only way he knew to protect himself from going completely insane. Even now he shivered at the memory of his colleagues anxiety, caring, worry . . . their thoughts pouring into him, tearing him more open when he fought to build a wall, to isolate himself from the outside world.

He was a strange Betazoid. He couldn’t handle the thoughts of others.

It was true what the Doctor said, he had to tell him why he was like this and he had to tell the Captain. He’d never intended to hide his nature from them, he was not stupid. It was because of the circumstances, ones he couldn’t quite remember, that they came onboard when he was already incapacitated and unable to explain himself. What were the odds that this would happen?

“Ready?” the Doctor asked as they stopped before the Captains door and Morgan waited a tad too long to request the entry.

Prompted, he sighed and at the Captain’s invitation stepped through the opening door. He waited till they swooshed close behind him.

“Sir!” he stated then, at attention as required with his hands at his sides, his chin lifted and his eyes looking past the Captain’s shoulder.

Captain Hotchner glared at him for a long time, his brow furrowed. Finally he spoke.

“At ease, Commander. How can I help you?”

No batting around the bush.

“Sir, I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier today. At the sick bay.” Derek swallowed. Now was the hardest part, “And explain.”

The Captain watched him again, maybe trying to determine if he was being manipulated again.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, exactly when Derek started sweating.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, hoping to calm his nerves.

“Sir, first of all,” he said, “I’m really sorry. This won’t happen again.”

“It better not.” Hotchner cut in abruptly. “I believe this kind of action is restricted by . . . there’s this Code of Sentience you Betazoids have, right?”

“Yes, sir!” Derek was caught off guard. What was the Captain getting at?

“I presume it would be better if you didn’t violate it anymore.”

Code of Sentience was a set of sacred rules regarding the way Betazoids approached all sentient beings. There were a lot of laws and regulations but most of them stemmed to how Betazoid telepathy should, or should not be used. It was forbidden, unless with permission or to provide emergency aid, to read another sentient beings’ thoughts. It was similarly outlawed to leave one’s thoughts in the mind of someone else. What Derek had done could be regarded as a violation of those rules but he knew better than that.

“With all due respect, Captain,” he spoke struggling to remain calm. “There are certain clauses I could call upon and any Code Committee would see my actions as justified.”

“Oh, they would, would they?” Captain Hotchner mocked. “Good for you. However I am your committee and your jury here and I will not tolerate violating another being’s private space, which is their mind. If you ever commit this kind of mind-rape again, you will be relieved. Now dismissed!”

Mind-rape? Derek couldn’t believe his own ears. And he was being dismissed! He couldn’t disobey a direct order but he didn’t even get a chance to explain himself! It didn’t matter now, all he could do was salute and leave, so that’s what he did.

“I sincerely believe it won’t happen again, sir,” he added quietly, almost in the doorway.

The doctor remained behind. Maybe he would be able to talk to the Captain and explain some things although Derek didn’t get his hopes high. Things weren’t looking up for him. He managed to antagonize his Captain on their first meeting and now he had to think quickly about some way to rehabilitate himself. Oh, he hadn’t broken the Code of Sentience! Still, the Captain was right, it didn’t really matter. What counted was how the sentient beings experienced what he’d done to them and at its core, that was what the Code was all about. Morgan would, sooner or later, tell Captain Hotchner why he’d done it and how to prevent it in the future. Now . . .

He strode toward the bridge. He needed to see how _Temeraire_ was doing while he was ‘away’.

“Commander on deck!” someone announced at the sight of him and everyone stood at attention.

“At ease, get back to your duties,” he told them and watched what they were doing for a moment. T’Elle was at one of the Tacticals and she and Reid at the Conn kept consulting with each other. The Tactical station had slightly different configuration, one that seemed familiar somehow.

“Is that Operations?” Morgan stopped in front of the display, next to the Vulcan.

As she explained why it needed to be changed, Derek felt someone watching him intensely. If he weren’t afraid of the assault of other people’s thought on his mind, he would have lowered his defenses and opened up to that other person. As it was though, he simply turned and met hazel eyes of Ensign Reid.

The Trill lowered his gaze and pretended to be busy with his console but his attention was still focused on Morgan.

“So Conn will only function as Helm now, is that correct?” the Commander closed the distance between them.

“I-- uh—yes,” the Ensign stuttered and then lifted his face and met Derek’s gaze defiantly. “Yes.”

Derek could vaguely recall that right before he woke up in the Sickbay, he was near Reid. Very near. Inside him, no matter how improbable it seemed with a joined Trill. He couldn’t remember it any more clearly though. So, he had probably invaded another being’s mind not once, but twice on the first day. Great.

As he watched the Trill, Reid seemed to have some quick internal struggle. His face changed, lips moved. He even took a small step away from Morgan and then turned more determinedly toward the Commander.

“Sir! I wish to thank you for what you did for us earlier. And I’m glad to see you back on your feet.”

“Thank you, Ensign.” Derek tried to remember exactly what happened without showing the younger man he had no idea what he was talking about.

Luckily Reid continued.

“Your intervention saved our both lives. And more than that. Yes!” again he looked like he argued with himself. “I’m . . .” he continued with a strange air of defiance. “I am Spencer, the host. Reid . . . Reid is my symbiont and our join is . . . deficient. It’s my fault. Yes, it is!” he hissed to himself and looked back at Morgan apologetically. “Sorry about that. See, for the timebeing we kind of share this body and we don’t always agree. For example Reid is angry for what you did--”

“Let me speak for myself!” The change was so sudden, Morgan took a step back, startled. “I am not angry for the intervention per se.” The same mouth continued but both the expression on his face and the voice, the tone were different. Stronger, older, more self-confident. “I agree that if you didn’t do this -- and if you didn’t do it the way you did, too -- we wouldn’t be standing here talking to you now. However, despite being glad that I’m alive, I’m not pleased with what happened and I have a right not to be. You forced Spencer to join with me and . . . No, Spencer, yes, this is what I want but not like this! I don’t want you to be forced to do it by any outside power. I want it to be your independent decision! Oh, whatever!” he threw his hands exasperated and calmed down, subdued.

“Sorry about that,” he said in a much softer ‘Spencer’ voice. After the initial surprise, Morgan started getting used to this, started recognizing the two people occupying the space of this young body. Spencer was much more friendly, fortunately. “I liked that. I wanted that. To be joined with Reid I mean. I still want it, so it was _my_ decision, you only made it possible. It’s been so many years that the two of us exist this way, that I don’t know how to break it. I guess I’m just . . . scared. And what you did, it really helped.”

“Well, I’m glad at least some of what I did today helped somebody,” Derek admitted. He didn’t manage to say any more because the door to the bridge swooshed open on both sides, almost simultaneously and both the Captain and a talk dark-haired woman with Lieutenant Commander insignia stepped in.

“Captain on deck!” someone screamed and everyone stood at attention.

***

 **16 -- Lieutenant Commander Emily Prentiss**

***

The last place the Chief of Security had on her list to check was the Sickbay. The Doctor, his assistant JJ and . . . the Commander, who as far as she knew was half dead. To her surprise though she didn’t see him on any of the biobeds.

“Is he . . .” she turned to JJ and hesitated. “In stasis?” Frankly, this would complicate matters, because if he was the changeling after all, there was no way to test him right now.

“No,” JJ replied however. “He’s fine, I guess. He recovered. I believe he’s somewhere on the First level.” The Bajoran smiled somewhat uncertainly.

Emily was happy though, she didn’t even think she would be this happy about such news. It meant the biggest stress of the last couple of hours was off her plate -- she wouldn’t be the First Officer after all.

She hugged the astounded nurse and almost forgot to take her blood sample.

“You’re clear,” she announced a moment later, when the red fluid didn’t change into a golden gel. “Now we need to check the Doctor.” After Rossi came in and allowed her to take some of his blood, criticizing her amateur technique, Emily Prentiss could tentatively say that she had done a good job. The ship was clear.

Emily was still a little concerned however. It felt too simple and the question where did the changeling escape remained. She reported to the Captain that she had finished the checkup and she was on her way to the bridge.

Captain Hotchner came onto the Bridge almost at the same time as she did.

“At ease,” he muttered as everyone saluted to him. “Prentiss, report.” He gestured for her to came to the big table in the back. They were joined by a tall, dark skinned and very handsome man who could only be Commander Morgan. For a moment Emily was so immersed in watching him that she almost missed the tension between him and the Captain.

When she heard a strained, “sir – sir,” however, her alertness peaked. Something was going on and she was out of the loop. Not good.

“We took the blood samples of everyone onboard, Captain,” she started, “and all came back clear. In addition to that we run a full low-energy phaser sweep and it didn’t reveal any changeling. _Temeraire_ is clear and we may safely continue the repairs,” she said trying to sound more confident than she felt.

“That’s good.” The Captain’s brow was still furrowed, contradicting his words.

“Excuse me,” the Commander said tentatively, “but could you brief me into the situation. I’m afraid I was out of it for the most part and . . .”

Emily blinked. How was that with the protocol that the second in command was not briefed with the crisis as soon as he was on his feet? The Captain’s eyes narrowed for a split second and he quickly referred the situation, starting from the overload at the Helm and finishing with, “Apparently they must have installed the virus earlier and then left the ship.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Morgan shook his head. “How would they make sure that the virus was not detected before its time?”

“Which is what happened.” The Captain said not looking up at him and barely opening his mouth. “The damage they caused is relatively small, it would be foolish of us to assume they had simply backed away.”

Emily had thought exactly that, her resources were what they were however, phaser sweeps, blood testing and hoping that it would be enough. This was exactly why the threat of Changelings was so terrifying.

“We might try to track from which computer console the viral codes originated,” she piped in but she knew that with the enemy’s ability to change his form so quickly this attempt was long overdue.

“Perhaps I could help,” the Commander said in a voice which betrayed his hesitation.

Captain Hotchner looked up at him. “How?” he barked.

Morgan took a deep breath, “I could try to sense them. If they are onboard, I’ll know.”

Hotchner glared at him. After a moment he shrugged, “Then what are you waiting for?”

The Commander didn’t say anything. Instead he took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes. His palms curled into fists and Emily could see that he struggled. His face contorted in pain several times and eventually he whispered one word, “Engineering.”

“Let’s go,” said the Captain, up on his feet before Emily could even blink.

“Wait,” Morgan breathed out, blindly grasping the Captain’s sleeve. “There are a few--” his voice was strained, breathing fast and shallow. “--on _Bahadur_ as well. And other ships.”

“Which ones?” Hotchner leaned to him. “How many?”

Morgan opened his eyes. He was pale or . . . grayish rather and breathing hard.

“I cannot tell,” he whispered. “Not at this distance.”

The Captain straightened up and looked straight at Emily. He wasn’t accusing her of missing that changeling, she didn’t think so but still, she couldn’t understand how that happened. She was careful, watchful, she had the list and all names on it were checked . . . As she looked down on her pad, she realized that it was not true. One name wasn’t. Commander Derek Morgan.

She opened her mouth to say that but the Captain was already giving orders.

“First we’ll take care of our changeling,” he announced. “Get your men Prentiss. Morgan, you’re coming with us!”

***

 **17 -- Captain Aaron “Hotch” Hotchner**

***

It’s not like he didn’t have doubts. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t immediatelly certain that he should follow the Betazoid’s lead. His second-in-command lead. Commander Derek Morgan. He needed to think about the man like this, by his name or his rank, not his race.

So, he wasn’t sure from the get-go that he should believe that there was a Changeling still on board or that there are Changelings on the other ships. He had everything to prove otherwise, his Security Officer’s statement, the results of her reliable tests. Besides Betazoid’s weren’t really supposed to read Changelings’ minds, so what was that? Then, they weren’t supposed to force humans into obligence with sheer thought either, so there was something different about this Betazoid, that was a given.

And that was also a reason why Aaron Hotchner didn’t want to trust him.

However, he had no choice really.

He had had one, two weeks ago. When he’d been given a crew manifesto and had been told that his second-in-command would be a Betazoid he had felt uneasy. He had berated himself internally for not making that choice himself when he’d had a chance. Gideon had asked him if he had anyone on his mind that he’d want on his crew and the only two people he’d thought about were JJ, whom he’d gotten to be really good friends with during their service on _Quantico_ and Spencer Reid, a Trill who, despite of having graduated the Academy less than a year ago, had already been labeled as extremely good pilot. Getting him from _Vegas_ , the ship he’d served on had taken some doing but Gideon had that super-duper important mission, so Starfleet Headquarters sort of let him be a primadonna. Hotch hadn’t had any more requests, so Gideon had chosen the rest of the crew for him, or let the Headquarters assign on their own.

Thus Hotchner ended up with the Bet-- with Commander Derek Morgan as his XO. If he had had any temptation to call the Headquarters and request a change in the assignment, he had squashed it before it would be registerable. He had no idea how he could justify such a request and really, really he hadn’t, still didn’t, want to be accused of xenophobia. He was not a xenophobe, period. Yes, so he kind of expected the Commander to have been hurt bad enough, so they’d have to remove him off the ship, so he hadn’t initially done all he could to save him, instead he’d simply given up on him. But it was not because he didn’t like the Betazoids! He liked them. He simply didn’t want to be anywhere near anyone who could read his thoughts. Or order him around.

Wasn’t he proven right about Derek Morgan back there in the sickbay?

No. Aaron Hotchner couldn’t think like that.

This was basically the thought process the Captain had in the three seconds which separated the Commander’s revelation that there are Changelings onboard _Bahadur_ and other ships in their formation and the moment the Captain gave the order to “take care of our Changeling”.

Because whatever the doubts, one this was for certain. There was absolutely no way Captain Hotchner could change who he had onboard now. It was set, they were almost on their way. And if he wanted this journey to end well, and if he wanted to return from it alive, he had to start building trust between his crewmembers. He had to start with himself. He had to trust the person he feared most. A Betazoid.

“Let’s go!”

The Captain led the men. Emily Prentiss and her security detail followed him and Commander Morgan was in the read guard. They descended to the second level and went quietly down the corridor to the door of the Engineering.

“Set phasers at three,” Hotchner ordered in a quiet voice. Phaser sweep had a little different features than a weapon setting and if they accidentally hit a Human instead of a Changeling it would cause serious burns. Hotchner hesitated again. How could he be sure? He couldn’t. So this was the moment to show trust. He turned to Morgan, “Where exactly is it?”

Morgan closed his eyes again and whispered, “Main console. Next to the Chief Engineer.” Then he opened his eyes and Hotch saw in them that Morgan knew exactly what he was thinking. All about the mistrust and . . . and fear that his innermost feelings could be so easily accessed by someone else. And a sincere apology that they were. The apology wasn’t communicated right into his mind, it was simple look, like with a Human.

Hotch shook his head, he had to focus on the Changeling they were about to intercept.

“Prentiss, on three. One, two, and--” the door swooshed open and both the Captain and the Chief of Security aimed their weapons at a young, fair haired girl. Damn! Neither of them pressed the trigger!

“What the hell is going on?” the Chief Engineer demanded in a high-pitched voice. “What are you doing with those phasers? Watch it, or you’ll hurt someone!”

“Step away from the console,” Hotch ordered her. “I want to talk to her. What is your name Ensign?”

Lieutenant Garcia looked to te girl, then back to Hotch. “What did she do?”

“Step away.”

“What?--”

“Please, Garcia,” Emily Prentiss lowered her phaser and neared the angered blonde. “We need to verify something. What is your name?” she asked the Ensign again, holstered her phaser and pulled out her padd instead.

“Clara Hayes,” the girl responded, pale and trembling. Hotch lowered his weapon as well. He was more and more certain that the Betazoid had made a mistake after all and he wouldn’t want to hurt innocent being.

Prentiss touched her padd several times. “There she is. She tested negative.” She looked at Hotch, then at Morgan. “Are you sure?”

“She’s not human,” the Commander responded in an even, quiet voice, no room for a doubt.

“Are you who you claim to be?” Prentiss asked in response aiming her phaser at him now.

If he ever could use his superior mental powers it would be now. He didn’t. He simply rised his hands and said, “I am.”

Hotch couldn’t allow the Security Chief to test her theories right now. No matter if he liked the Betazoid or not, the guy had suffered enough for one day.

“Maybe you should test her again,” he started trying to avert Prentiss’s attention away from Morgan but right as he started speaking Clara Hayes turned into golden gel and morfed into one with a floor. This was enough to get Prentiss’s attention.

“Damn!” all three officers exclaimed. Chief Engineer squirmed.

“We have to containt it!” Prentiss fired her phaser onto the floor immediatelly, in a wide circle and she managed to nick the Changeling because a moment later a gelatine mass was lying on the floor, writhing in the phaser beam. The guards locked the being in a force-field container and took it out momentarily.

“Sorry,” Prentiss told the Commander. “I just realized I hadn’t tested you and then you went and accused someone else. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, you may test me now if you want.”

“No . . .”

“Please do,” said Hotchner. “And after you do, meet me in my Ready Room. We need to decide how we’ll proceed about _Bahadur_ and the others. Everyone, get back to your duties!”

***

 **18 -- Ensign Spencer Reid (Reid)**

***

“How do I know?” the Commander asked exasperated. “I simply do!”

“From what I’ve heard, Betazoids can’t sense Changelings, period.” Emily Prentiss was persistent and Reid kind of enjoyed her pestering Commander Morgan. “I really need to know how I can believe in what you’re saying when it’s scientifically proven otherwise.”

Morgan sighed. Reid wanted to ask his question too. How could he communicate with his host, when it was a common knowledge that joined trills were impenetrable for Betazoid telepathic skills.

‘Maybe because we’re not completely joined,’ Spencer supplied but Reid didn’t want to hear any of this. He wanted to hear the Betazoid’s answer, damn it.

Didn’t get to it, because the fourth member of their away mission appeared in form of a finally-uniform-clad Lieutenant Penelope Garcia. Reid’s face split in a wide grin at the sight of her. He had to admit that he couldn’t imagine her round and plush body in a slim uniform but she wore it with ease and appeal which source he couldn’t quite grasp.

Until the Commander asked in a voice as amused as it was appalled, “Is that a skirt?”

Indeed the Liutenant’s uniform was altered in a subtle, yet distinct way. And it fit het figure as much as it fit her character apparently. In addition to that Penelope Garcia was wearing . . . pigtails . . . for that trip.

“Is that a problem? Sir.”

“Um . . .” apparently Commander Morgan didn’t quite know how to deal with her attitude.

“Because I checked, sir, before I made those alterations, and they are not against the protocol. As long as the color is right, and the shape is not too . . . fluffy -- I like fluffy by the way -- it’s all good.”

“It is?”

“Yes, sir, it is.”

“Alright, then,” the Commander smirked. “Babygirl.”

Now, in turn, the Chief Engineer appeared stunned. “Babygirl?”

“Meant no harm.” Morgan lifed both his hands in a pacifying gesture, then indicated her hairdo. “It’s those . . .”

Garcia smirked, shrugged and rolled her eyes. “I’ve been called worse,” she said. “Shouldn’t we board?”

Of course they should have. The Commander immediatelly told them to get into the shuttle and they were on their way to _Bahadur_ in a couple of minutes. Reid was the one piloting the ship, Prentiss was to aid the security there, Morgan was to determine up close who were the Changelings on the Flagship and Garcia had the best skills to find the viruses if there were any in the Flagship’s systems. That’s how it was decided during the briefing in the Captain’s quarters, where Reid was not invited, not being considered a senior enough officer. Oh, obviously he had just graduated Academy by the standards of all the races involved but frankly they could use his experience a bit more.

‘Maybe you need to convince them that you have that experience,” Spencer cut into his thoughts.

‘Are you being ironic, Spence?’ Reid was quite frankly startled with the young man’s attitude. He almost seemed to dislike him, for the first time ever.

‘Hush. Shut up, I want to listen,’ he told Reid what made the symbiont shocked to say the least.

“Back to my question.” It was Prentiss who apparently caught Spencer’s attention. And she aimed that question at Morgan. So that was why Spencer wanted to listen.

“You never give up, do you?” the Commander tried to avert her attention once more, his attempt futile.

“Why should I?”

“Oh, okay,” the Commander sighed. “I-uh. I don’t usually advertize it.” He appeared kind of uncomfortable talking about his abilities. “But I guess I need to let you in, so you know what to expect. See, most Betazoids develop their telepathic abilities in adolescence. However a small percentage of Betazoid children are born with them.”

“You?” Prentiss made a guess.

“Me. And as we are more . . . skilled, so to speak, we have bigger range and can read even deepest thouts, can influence others, such things. It also allows me to . . . how do I explain it? . . . Not so much sense the Changeling but rather sense lack of it. Lack of thoughts where a living being is. A void. That’s it -- a void.”

“Uh,” Reid heard strain in Emily Prentiss’s voice. He was tempted to turn around and look at everybody’s faces but he had to watch his console. He was pretty certain that Emily was concerned about the same thing he was. “You said you can read the deepest thoughts . . .” she voiced it.

“It’s not like that,” Morgan sighed again. Reid kind of felt sorry for him for having to explain himself like this. Surprisingly, he was under more scruitiny from his crewmates than the half-joined Trill and as relieving as it was, Reid could also empathise with him. In a completelly non-telepathic way.

‘See?’ Spencer thought to him.

‘Shut up! I’m _not_ liking him!’

‘Yet.’

“See, with those larger abilities comes a certain disadvantage, as in, I can’t choose what I sense. Betazoids who are born telepaths lack certain ability to filter out the unnecessary thoughts of other people. Kind of like with hearing, there is the background noise all the time, right? The hum of the engines, our pilot’s muttering to himself . . .”

What? Why was Morgan taking a pun at him?

“I don’t mutter!” Reid raised his voice, apalled.

“Yes you do!” Prentiss backed the Betazoid’s words.

“Yes you do.” To Reid’s complete astonishment his own host, Spencer, joined the pack.

“Whatever.” Reid shrugged and told Spencer that he’s not going to talk to any of them.

But then Morgan chuckled, Garcia laughed too and there was no malice in their laughter, it was so natural, like they understood and accepted that he was two people in one and they were okay with him having discussions with himself. Prentiss joined them, rather amused after a moment. It was a first, really. He turned away from his console and met three pairs of smirking, friendly eyes.

‘Okay, I will talk to them,’ he told Spencer. ‘Even to your Betazoid.’

‘He’s not mine!’

“Okay, I mutter,” he said, staring straight at Morgan. “Even talk to myself. But you still didn’t finish explaining yourself and we feel threatened by your superior mental powers. So?”

Morgan closed his eyes and sighed. “You don’t need to,” he said wearily as if he really didn’t want to talk about this any more but Reid could say that both Prentiss and Garcia would feel better having it explained. He too would feel better. And he knew that Morgan understood that. “Well, as I was saying you don’t register most of the sounds you hear. It’s the same with thoughts. A Betazoid senses thoughts and emotions of the person they talk to or the one they want to get in contact with, not of everybody in a room.”

“You mean you can read us all, as we seat here?” Prentiss bit her lip.

“Well, no. I _could_. And . . .” He looked up and at the viewscreen and a huge shape of the Flagship there what reminded Reid that he should take the shuttle to one of the docking bays and he didn’t yet check which one was avaliable at the moment. He turned back to his console and listened to Morgan’s voice, which was surprisingly filled with pain. “Much more than just you, my range is about three miles, so I could read everybody on _Bahadur_ and probably the people on the station as well. Can you imagine the noise? I don’t do it because I trained not to. Most Betazoids like me end up . . . crazy. They can’t deal with the constant mental gibberish. I was . . .” he paused for a moment. A moment longer than his previous breaks to sigh or gather his thoughts. When he picked up again, his voice was strangely bitter, considering the words he was saying. “I was lucky enough to have been found at a very early age, by a brilliant Vulcan professor Buvord, who trained me and a few other gifted children in Vulcan mental control. I am capable of building a kind of a wall around my mind, through which nothing penetrates. At my will, I can lower it but it exposes me in lesser or larger degree to the thoughts of others.”

He stopped and, without any mental powers Reid knew that he wouldn’t keep talking this time. He was done.

“I guess this is unpleasant,” Garcia spoke up for the first time, so quietly, it didn’t fit with her exuberant self.

Morgan didn’t respond, Reid could only hear him sigh once more. It was time to end this conversation.

“Prepare for docking,” he said, even though there was still a couple of minutes left till they needed to get ready. They flew the rest of their journey in silence which Reid considered comfortable. He hoped the Commander would find the silence with people from _Temeraire_ comfortable as well.

‘There may be hope for you yet,’ said Spencer.

‘Shut up!’ said Reid.

‘Don’t be mad,’ Spencer pleaded. ‘I know you’re hurt and I know it’s not really because of the Commander. Please, hear me out. He might actually help us . . .’

‘I don’t want him to help!’

‘I know, I know. You want it to be my decision. And it is. It has been for a long time. Still there’s something in my mind that blocks me from opening up and he managed to remove that obstacle. He might do it again. Don’t get angry, Reid. Consider it a form of mental surgery . . .’

“FINE!’ Reid snapped. ‘Fine, I’ll think about it. Just . . . shut up!”

***

 **19 -- Lieutenant Penelope Garcia**

***

Penelope was a little overwhelmed. Her parents -- before they died -- had taught her to love herself the way she was. They were members of a naturalist momevent which didn’t accept any interference into a natural progress of things. Whether it was to make oneself prettier, or healthier, or even simply to save lives. Her younger brother had autism and their parents refused the neuronal pathways correction, saying he wouldn’t be himself if they changed the way he was thinking or the way he percieved the world. They were right, Ian said so himself. Of course he was isolated from his peers, it was devastatingly hard for him to get used to living without mom and dad after they died and Pen was not independent enough to take him in. But still, even though he had to live in a facility with people much sicker than him, those whom modern medicine couldn’t help at all, he said that if he would see the world differently, the way so called _normal_ people did, it would be as if _he_ died and it was somebody else.

It was similar with Pen. If she were to have a slim figure it would be as if real Pen died and some other chick took her place in the universe.

Hearing Commander Morgan’s explanation of how he was and why he was like that gave Penelope Garcia quite a turmoil. On one hand he changed his way of percieving the world, even if it was not artificial but through mental training -- and frankly, she found many similarities between what he described and the way Ian experienced some sensations -- as an overload of sounds, or thoughts in Morgan’s case. On the other hand, she felt sorry for him and she understood why he wanted to do it. Or, maybe he didn’t want. Maybe it was decided for him, after all he had been ‘discovered’ as he said, by that Vulcan, Buvord, when he’d been a child. It was probably his parents who wanted him ‘cured’. Made ‘normal’. He wasn’t normal anyway. From what he said, his everyday way of experiencing the world was much more similar to that of a Human, than to a Betazoid.

“Have you ever thought if you wouldn’t rather not have gone through that mental training thing and be ‘crazy’?” she asked him as they were leaving the shuttle.

Morgan looked at her as if she suddenly grew a pair of horns. Then his gaze softened.

“I have,” he said simply. Didn’t continue and Penelope didn’t really feel like violating his personal space any more.

“Admiral on deck!” Spencer Reid announced and all four of them stood at attention, right outside of their shuttle.

“At ease,” said a man in his fifties, dark-haired and with piercing eyes which looked through a person to the very core of their innermost desires. He was accompanied by a distinguished blonde lady, with stare so cold Penelope’s heart jumped to her throat. She glared at the Lieutenant’s outfit and Garcia immediatelly knew that this kind of demeanor would not be acceptable on _Bahadur_. “This is Captain Strauss,” the Admiral introduced her. “I am Jason Gideon, as you undoubtly have guessed.”

“Yes, we have!” Reid replied eagerly a bright smile lighting up his face. The Admiral turned to him rising his eyebrows in curiosity. “Sir, we’ve heard so much about you. I have even met you, briefly back when you were a cadet, but you probably don’t recognize me now, I used to be Deanna Reid then.” The tembre of his voice alternated slightly as he spoke between his Spencer and his Reid persona. “I must admit I didn’t take the time to get to know you then, it’s Spencer who knows all about your actions at Torros III and have followed your careed even before the war. It is because of you, sir, that I decided to take courses at Starfleet Academy on Earth.”

“Spencer,” Commander Morgan interrupted the monologue. “We will have plenty of time for niceties later. Right now I think we have a job to do.” He nodded at the Admiral and the older man took his cue.

“That’s right. It’s nice to meet you, Spencer. All of you, actually. Captain Hotchner had already sent me his action plan and I agree with his ideas. Commander Morgan, you and Lieutenant Prentiss go with Captain Strauss, she’s in charge of the ship and the crew. Lieutenant Lynch, our Computer Analyst will take Lieutenant Garcia to the Computer Core and you two will check all the codes. I’ll contact other Captains and tell them what precautions they should undertake.”

“What about me?” Reid squeaked to that and Garcia felt sorry for him. A couple hunred years old Trill was treated like a chauffer!

“I think it won’t hurt if you come with us,” Morgan looked at the Admiral for permission and Gideon nodded with a slight curve of his thin lips. Garcia liked him on the spot. Quite on the contrary with the strict Captain of the _Bahadur_. She stared after her crewmates walking away behind the lady and her security detail until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She jumped, startled.

“Sorry,” a very tall Lieutenant Lynch smiled sheepishly. “Shall we go down? I’m Kevin, guess it will be easier to talk on first name basis.”

“Garcia. I mean Penelope. Lead the way.”

Working with Kevin was easy and more fun than she expected. He was quite brilliant if she said so herself and his sense of humor wasn’t much different than hers. They were quick and effcient, at least until she heard Commander Morgan’s voice in her head.

“We’re surrounded. Find Reid. Notify the Admiral.”

***

 **20 -- Commander Derek Morgan**

***

Derek feared that if he opened up one more time today his head would explode. He had taken a hypo with a pain killer from Doctor Rossi but it was wearing thin. He would find the damn Changelings and then sedate himself into oblivion, let the others carry him back to the shuttle, he didn’t care for dignity.

No, he wouldn’t go that far, he just thought that to make himself feel better. He had one more important conversation to make today and right now he was glad that he’d rehearsed all he would have to say back on that shuttle. It was simpler to talk to the people who weren’t as openly judgmental as Captain Hotchner was. Morgan could only hope that in the end the Captain would understand as the others had.

The question asked by Lieutenant Garcia -- was it a revenge for calling her Baby Girl? he wondered with a smile. He would call her that anyway! -- it threw him off a little. Had he ever wondered if he wouldn’t rather be ‘crazy’ then endure all the assaults on his mind by the good professor? Sometimes he thought he would. Sometimes he tried to make the best of what he’d been dealt with in life.

“I have Betazoids onboard, you know,” Captain Strauss said suddenly as they were approaching the Briefing Room. They spent the ride in the turbolift in complete silence and her words now startled Morgan. “None of them sensed anything.” He glanced at her and . . . did she seem taller now? “It is my understanding that the Changeligs can’t be read by your people.”

“That’s true for the most part,” Morgan replied cautiously. They were significantly ahead of Prentiss, Reid and the security people. About to turn around the corner. “I can sense . . . a kind of a void, instead of mind of a Changeling.”

“Really?” They turned. Her skin darkened. “What can you sense now?” she asked in his voice.

Damn!

“What is going on?” Prentiss asked in a terrified voice right from behind them.

“It’s him!” ex-Strauss yelled, pointing at Morgan. “She’d just morphed into me!”

Prentiss rised her phaser and pointed it at Morgan.

“It’s lying!” Morgan screamed instinctively, rising his hands.

Prentiss, along with the other two security guards started waving her phaser from one of them to the other, obviously unable to make up her mind. He couldn’t quite blame them.

***

 **21 -- Lieutenant Commander Emily Prentiss**

***

Oh, crap! Emily stared at the two Morgans and couldn’t for the life of her make a shot. She had aimed her gun at real Morgan once today and she really didn’t want to repeat that mistake. She didn’t want to harm him.

“Grab them both!” She told the two guards. They would make a blood screening, the Changeling apparently was stupid enough to think it would get away with it!

“What’s going on here?” Reid came from around the corner and glared at the two Morgans with terror. “Was that the Captain, she was the Changeling?”

“Apparently so,” Prentiss hissed. “There’s a vial in my left pocket,” she instructed the Trill. “You know how to take blood samples?”

“I . . .” he stuttered. “I do.” Everyone in the Starfleet was schooled on this procedure now.

“Go ahead.”

His hands trembling the Trill approached one of the Morgans and draw some of his blood. The man was breathing hard and sweating and Emily wondered if Changelings could mimick solid’s physiological reactions that well but apparently they could as his blood turned into gel.

‘No!’ Emily heard in her head. ‘I’m me, Reid is a Changeling!’ She felt her eyes go wide and all of the sudden lost control over her own facial expressions. ‘Don’t let them know I’m talking to you, please.’ The force released her and she slowly rised her phaser wondering if the Changeling could mimick a Betazoid to the point where they could communicate telepathically. ‘No they couldn’t’ Morgan’s voice in her head responded. ‘That’s why they lost the Battle of Betazed.’

Emily decided to take his word on that and she shot at Reid.

She missed . . .

***

 **22 -- Lieutenant Penelope Garcia**

***

‘We’re surrounded. Find Reid. Notify the Admiral.’

With those words came the images, feelings so to speak. She knew immediatelly where Morgan and Prentiss were, through which corridors they walked and where Reid might possibly be and she also knew that she had to be very discrete in notifying Admiral Gideon. Was Kevin safe though, could she trust _him_?

‘Yes,’ came the answer.

Oh.

“Kevin, my people were taken by the Changelings, we need to save them and notify the Admiral.” She pointed toward the communication console so he would know he needed to send a message directly to the Admiral, not via a comm system.

“And the Captain!” Lynch supplied.

“No, the Captain was a Changeling,” Garcia responded, not sure how she guessed it. It must have come with the rest of the message. “You need to get a few people and find her. Maybe the real she is still alive. If I only knew how to identify who is who he appears to be . . .”

‘Don’t worry BabyGirl, I’ll guide you through,’ Morgan’s voice was with her again. ‘At least as long as I’ll stay conscious . . .’ he added and she sensed an unspoken request to hurry the hell up.

She tried. Soon, accompanied by three security officers she run toward the turbolift and sure enough, in a corridor on level two they found blood drops.

“Here!” the yellowshirt yelled, pointing at a definitely affected wall-cover. He opened it with ease and Spencer Reid, battered and bloodied fell to the floor.

“Let me through!” someone yelled and Garcia stepped away to let the doctor through. Admiral Gideon, phaser in hand, was a step behind the man.

“Where are they?” he demanded.

“Over there!” Garcia pointed down the corridor. The Admiral was on the move faster than she could say ‘let’s move’.

The twosome, along with the guards rammed into the Briefing Room where they found two Morgans and two Prentisses, all of them covered in blood and with identical bruises.

‘Penelope,’ Morgan thought to her and without a moment hesitation she fired at the Changeling who impersonated him, then at the one impersonating their Chief of Security. With a soft, ‘Thank you,’ she felt Morgan’s mind leave hers as he himself collapsed to the floor.

***

 **23 -- Captain Aaron “Hotch” Hotchner**

***

“You wished to see me, sir?” came a soft question from the door.

“Yes I did, Commander, please take a seat.”

It was going to be a difficult conversation but Aaron Hotchner knew he owed his second-in-command that much. And perhaps some honesty too.

He took his time placing the padd on the edge of his desk and then watched as Derek Morgan sat in an armchair on the other side of it.

“I was told you used your mental powers on your crewmates again,” he chose to start from the reproof. This was what the Commander had been expecting anyway, most likely. Indeed, all he did in response was sigh. “Lieutenant Commander Prentiss especially said that she was quite stunned when you changed her expression for her.” The Captain could see the Betazoid’s jaw tighten and rised both his palms in a placating gesture. He deliberately chose her, because of her ultimate conclusion. “She also said that she would allow you to do that again in a heartbeat should the need arise.”

Morgan looked up, uncertain of where the Captain was going with it.

“I only tried to save her. Us. _Bahadur_ ,” he floundered.

“I know,” Hotch pursed his lips in a grimmace he intended to be a smile but didn’t quite manage. “And I command you for that.” He hoped he at least sounded sincere. “I understand that you ended up in the sickbay again.” A touch of concern couldn’t hurt either.

Morgan eyed him suspiciouly. Yeah, so he didn’t expect friendliness, good.

“That’s right,” he nodded eventually.

“Doctor Rossi told Doctor Anderson what to do . . .” Hotch was not good at friendly. “I’m glad you’re alright. And Admiral Gideon was very satisfied with your performance. He considers you our great asset and I . . . agree with him wholeheartedly. I’m honored to have you as my First Officer.” He stood up and extended his palm to shake with the other man.

Morgan stood up, wide-eyed with surprise. “Thank you, sir,” he said simply. “The honor is all mine.”

This could be considered an apology and an acceptance of it, couldn’t it? Hotch tried to smile again, this time probably with more success.

“I have the orders from the Admiral here -- we take off in an hour, heading to Deep Space Nine. I want you to take us out of the dock-yards and join the formation. I’ll be on the Bridge in time for the departure.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Dismissed.”

This was going to be a very long journey but perhaps with friends on board, it would be less tiresome and . . . safer.

***  
.end


End file.
